


I'll Be Yours (Just Give Me Time)

by LynxRyder



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Date, M/M, Steve wants more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynxRyder/pseuds/LynxRyder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever Steve has with Tony is running on adrenaline and excitement. Steve is not about to deny that he loves it but recently he has started to yearn for more. Do the pair of them have the potential for a real relationship? Steve sets up a first date to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Yours (Just Give Me Time)

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for caution rather than content.

 

                Steve has a problem. A Tony problem. They have fallen into a pattern which, although immensely pleasurable, does not entirely satisfy. Steve has let things continue this way for months, the meaningful glances, the snatched moments, the kisses hot and heavy with the lights down low, because he has sensed that Tony would be uncomfortable with anything more. They have not used the words relationship, date or love and Steve has learned enough about Tony to understand why. The last thing he wants to do is ask for the man's trust before he is ready to give it.

                Still, Steve is not sure how much longer they can go on like this. He has never felt this way about anyone, never needed anyone's physical presence so intensely. When they are unable to get together for a few days Steve feels as if his insides are burning so great is his longing to touch and be touched. Secret liaisons are not enough anymore. He wants to be able to take Tony's hand when they are watching TV together. He wants to kiss the back of his neck when he walks into the kitchen and finds Tony making coffee. In short, he wants more.

                There is also the ever present danger of being caught. Steve has absolutely no desire for the news to break that way and they've cut it close a few times. A few days ago they had been in the kitchen, lost in each other, when Natasha had walked in. Tony had leapt to the other side of the room and immediately launched into a diatribe about the stagnation in microwave technology while Steve struggled to compose himself.

                Natasha had looked from Tony, who was still talking, to Steve and then, as her instincts kicked in, she had focused in on the silent one.

                "Everything okay?"

                "Sure," Steve had replied, "We were just..."

                But his mind was still reeling. He could still feel the heat on his back from where Tony's hands had been.

                "You know what?" Tony had called out, startling them both, "If no one's going to do me the courtesy of listening then I guess I'm going to call it a night."

                He had left and Natasha had waited but Steve had given her nothing and after a lengthy period of awkwardness she had filled a glass with water and disappeared.

                It had been too close and although Natasha had not said a word since Steve has to wonder how much she saw, or guessed. In any event it was the push Steve needed to do something about their situation.

 

* * *

 

                Steve plans carefully or at least he tries to, living in the same building as people with heightened senses and pin sharp awareness makes even sneaking downstairs for a secret midnight snack a daunting prospect. Take for example his unfortunate decision to place his shopping bag down on the kitchen table for a second instead of taking it straight up to his room. In the time it takes him to grab an apple from the fruit bowl Thor arrives and takes it upon himself to tip the contents of the bag out onto the table for closer inspection.

                "Candles!" he booms, his face splitting in his trademark grin, "A fine purchase, Captain! We shall light this place up like my father's resting chamber."

                He proceeds to turn off all the electric lights (Steve has to stop him from turning off the fridge while he's at it) and treats Steve and a mystified Clint to a lecture on the spiritual benefits of a naked flame. Steve's sigh goes unheard, the only response a slight flickering from the nearest candle.

 

* * *

 

 

                The next problem is the food. If Steve cooks something, which he would very much like to do, then it will look suspicious if he serves up two portions and carries them away to his room. The same issue occurs when he contemplates take out. Steve is one of the regulars at Avenger Tower meal times and as such his presence is missed on those occasions when he does not show. For the first time Steve regrets having not carved out a little anonymity of his own. No one thinks it's odd for Bruce or Natasha or even Thor to miss a shared meal, and as Tony rarely joins them his presence is celebrated when he does arrive rather than lamented when he does not. Perhaps if Steve had not been trying so hard to build a family out of his fellow Avengers he would be able to take a night to do what he wanted to do without having to fend off a hundred questions about it. 

                In the end Steve opts for an indoor picnic affair. He is wary of Tony finding such a concept lame at best and pathetic at worst but he figures that if he puts in enough effort Tony just might find the corniness a little charming. Each of their bedrooms is equipped with a mini-fridge and over the next few days Steve stocks his with things he has noticed Tony enjoy during their time under the same roof. Of course it is all imported cheeses and exotic fruits and Steve experiences a stab of guilt at the checkout of one store when he sees a woman in the next line with a baby balanced on her hip counting out pennies to pay for diapers. No matter how hard he works to clean up the city - not to mention the small matter of saving the world - Steve still feels guilty at the simple injustices in the world. 

 

* * *

 

                Music is the last thing Steve attempts to sort out. Tony has teased him remorselessly about his outdated taste so Steve knows that anything he might consider romantic is out. Steve has tried listening to the heavy thumping songs Tony favours while he is in the lab but he has never managed more than two tracks before his head starts to ache. In any case it hardly seems to be the kind of thing that is suited to an intimate evening together. After fruitlessly trying to solve this problem himself Steve decides that in this area he is going to need some help.

                Steve tries Clint first. He does not tell him what he wants it for, of course, merely stipulating that he is interested in hearing a more representative sample of modern music. Clint claps his hands in delight and for the next hour takes Steve through a bewildering list of artists, playing tracks and then stopping them after only a few seconds in some cases before switching to the next one. After a particularly hideous number from a lady going by the name of Gaga, Steve decides to seek an alternative source of inspiration.

                Bruce is evidently surprised by the request.

                "I'm not sure I'm the best qualified," he says, "Have you tried...?"

                "Clint? Yeah. I really don't think he and I are on the same wavelength."

                "Fair enough," says Bruce with a small smile.

                Unlike Clint whose impressively substantial collection was all contained within a tiny iPod Bruce has an eclectic pile of CDs that he begins to rifle through, pulling out about a dozen before handing them to Steve.

                "Not sure if this is the kind of thing you're looking for," he says with a self-deprecating shrug, "But if you're looking for a smooth, mellow sort of sound then these are your best bet."

                Steve waits until he is alone in his room to listen. The first one - an album entitled Paper Airplanes - has a singer with a heavenly voice but the songs are all too sad. He places the CD back in its case and tries the next one. As the first track starts Steve reads the name of the band. Mozella. By the third track Steve is sure that he has found his first selection but it is track six that really clinches it. It is perfect. He listens to it three times in a row. He is still listening when his phone chirps.

                _Tonight?_

                It is from Tony. Tony's messages have never been anything less than to the point. This is the way they do things. This is why Steve needs it to change. Steve stills his fingers before they can write what it is in his heart. He does not want to scare Tony off.

                _My room. 8._

                He types 'I'll be waiting' but deletes it and sends the message as it is. The reply takes a minute to get to him.

                _Aye, aye, Captain._

* * *

                In order to stop himself from imploding from nerves, Steve heads to the gym and beats the hell out of every piece of equipment he can punch and kick. By the time he has finished his body is aching. The nerves are still there but he is in control. Two hours to go.

 

* * *

 

                At seven forty five Steve is in his room, pacing. He has checked and re-checked everything. There is a blanket laid out across the bed, one of those chequered ones that always remind Steve of summer barbeques, there are two glasses on the bedside table and the music is just waiting for him to hit play. He has even made a brief appearance in the kitchen, just long enough to bolt down a lightning quick supper and convince the others that he has eaten his fill. He has thought of everything.

                When the knock comes Steve checks his watch. Seven fifty five. The significance of these precious five minutes makes Steve want to whoop for joy; Tony is never, ever early for anything. He opens the door, a stupidly big smile on his face, only to be greeted by Natasha.

                "Thor is rounding up the troops for a pool tournament and sent me to fetch you. He will take refusal most bitterly. His words."

                Steve, who hopes that he is blocking Natasha's view into the room, pretends to deliberate.

                "Actually I was hoping to have an evening to myself," he says, "Tell Thor I'll be there for the next one."

                It might have been his imagination but Natasha's eyes seem to narrow the tiniest bit before she shrugs.

                "Suit yourself," she says and she turns on her heel, tossing an airy goodnight over her shoulder as she disappears down the corridor.  

 

* * *

 

                At eight thirty the second knock rouses Steve from his seat by the window. The moment he opens the door Tony moves towards him. Steve takes a small but significant step back and Tony is brought up short.

                "You're late," Steve says.

                "You're tall," Tony says, "Keep going, I can do this all night."

                He moves forwards again and this time Steve does not try to evade the kiss. The moment their lips touch his stomach drops and he wonders whether he has the willpower to see his plan through. Tony is already untucking Steve's T-shirt from his jeans when Steve manages to choke out a few words.

                "Have you eaten?"

                "What?"

                Tony's hands are pressed to the small of Steve's back and it is hard, very hard, to keep talking.

                "Have you had dinner? I bought a few things. I thought we could..."

                A smile is spreading across Tony's face making his eyes crinkle in that way that just makes Steve melt.

                "Why, Cap," he says, "I didn't know you had it in you. What were you thinking? Chocolate sauce? Whipped cream? I'm game but I draw the line at fondue. You ever been burned on the..."

                "I really did mean dinner," Steve interrupts and he turns slightly to give Tony a better view of the bed where in the half an hour he was waiting he laid out the cheese, the bread, the papaya and pineapple, and the decadent little chocolate tarts from the patisserie he knows Tony favours. He watches Tony take it all in. A little frown appears in the centre of his forehead.

                "Oh," he says and his hands slide away leaving Steve's skin feeling cold.

                "I...I'll put on some music," says Steve. Anything to fill the sudden silence. He does not turn away quick enough to miss Tony grimacing.

                "Don't worry," he says, "It's not...well, it's relatively modern."

                He walks over to the bed as the first song starts. Tony is still looking down at the food Steve chose so carefully. There is a terrible seriousness to the way he is staring that tells Steve that he might have miscalculated badly. Not knowing what else to do he sits down and pats the blanket in what he hopes is an inviting manner. Tony takes one look at his hand then backs away from the bed, three swift steps that take him almost to the wall.

                "Okay," he says, "What's going on here, Cap? Is this some elaborate way of telling me that you're done?"

                "Done?"

                Steve repeats the word, dumbstruck. How could Tony think that he would go to so much trouble just to tell him that he'd changed his mind?

                "Right," says Tony, "Gotcha."

                His fists clench tight then relax.

                "You know you could have just sent me a message. I actually have a lot of real save-the-world type work to do so I really don't need to be wasting my time listening to some big long speech from you about how this isn't working and how you need your space and all that polite crap. Here in the twenty first century we've dispensed with all that bullshit so thanks but no thanks, Cap, you can save your breath."

                Steve's jaw actually drops somewhere in the middle of this outburst. He feels as if a dream has just shattered inside him. Tony makes a little mock saluting gesture and then marches across the room. Steve barely recovers himself in time to scramble from the bed. Tony has his hand on the doorknob when Steve catches him, grabbing his arm and twisting him round. He has never used his superior strength against Tony before, never had need to, and it sends a knife twisting into his gut to see the split second flash of fear in Tony's eyes as he is pressed against the door.

                "Tony..."

                Steve searches for the words. Tony's face has hardened into a mask of fury, he is probably a second away from getting JARVIS to send him a suit, but Steve cannot bring himself to let him go.

                "Tony, you don't understand."

                Steve is well aware that holding Tony against his will is not the best way of getting him to listen. Tony is not struggling but he is tense, primed for attack should Steve's grip lessen for the slightest instant. How has it come to this? All he wanted was a romantic evening, something to make Tony - and himself - feel like they were in this for more than just sex.

                "I don't know what I did," Steve whispers, "But I messed up. I never meant to make you think that I was done."

                He lets Tony go then, dropping his arms down by his sides and bracing himself to take whatever Tony is going to throw at him. But Tony does not move.

                "What is this then?" he asks stiffly.

                A very small ray of hope flares in Steve's chest.

                "I was trying to give us something special," he says, "Kind of, I don't know, like a first date."

                Tony blinks. He peers round Steve and Steve sees the pitiful scene through his eyes. God, he is bad at this, and now, instead of gaining something, he stands to lose it all. Steve lets his head hang. Right now he feels every inch the weedy loser he had once been.

                "Soooo," says Tony slowly, "I kinda, almost, maybe ruined our first ever date?"

                Steve looks up and finds that Tony is staring right at him with inscrutable intensity.

                "Nothing's ruined," Steve says, the little ray of hope inside him flaring brighter still, "We can start from now."

                They make it back to the bed. Steve manages a sip of wine and two bites of bread before track six of the album kicks in. Suddenly his appetite has nothing to do with food.

                "I like this song."

                Tony quirks his head to listen giving Steve the chance to run his eyes all over his neck, his jaw line, his immaculately groomed goatee, those sculpted cheeks.

                "It's not entirely bad," Tony concedes, "Although..."

                Steve cannot stop himself. He takes hold of Tony's face in both hands and kisses him, tasting wine and pineapple and something else that is purely Tony. In a matter of moments they are both on their knees in the centre of the bed, a mess of food wreckage around them. Tony's hands snake their way into Steve's hair as Steve kisses his way up his neck.   

                "We should do this more often," Steve breathes into Tony's ear.

                He is rewarded with a wicked grin.

                "Whatever you say, Cap."

                "No," Steve says placing two fingers over Tony's lips. He fears he has been misunderstood for the second time and if Tony starts kissing him again then his thoughts will fog up and he'll be unable to make himself clear.

                "I mean dinner," he says, "You know, time together."

                There is a heartbeat's pause before Tony places a single kiss on Steve's fingertips.

                "Sure thing, Cap."

                "My name..." The fire inside Steve is rising, heat flaming through every part of him. "...is Steve."

                "Steve," says Tony, stressing his name with a soft richness, "Take off your pants."

                "What about our dinner?" Steve asks as he fumbles with his belt.

                Tony's eyes spark with that wickedness that has Steve so addicted.

                "Oh, it'll wait," he says, "A lot longer than me anyhow."

 

* * *

 

                 Later, a lot later, Steve reflects on the success of his plan. It had not worked out the way he had imagined it would but then again a few months ago he would never have imagined himself in a relationship, much less a relationship with Tony Stark. And even if the evening had taken a different turn to the one he had hoped for that was not necessarily bad. Steve looks at Tony beside him, fast asleep in Steve's bed for the very first time. He smiles, heart swelling. In this case, he has to admit, different is pretty damn good.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first Steve/Tony ficlet was inspired by the Mozella album Bruce recommends to Steve. In particular the song Can't Stop. It is beautiful, check it out.


End file.
